


Singing in the Shower

by Carry_On_Destiel



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Alexandria Safe-Zone, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Cute Ending, Daryl gets a make over, Drinking, Drunken Shenanigans, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Innuendo, Karaoke, M/M, Pancakes, Poor Daryl, Romantic Fluff, Shipper!Maggie, Shower Sex, Singing, Slow Burn, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-04-21 07:24:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4820432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carry_On_Destiel/pseuds/Carry_On_Destiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Alexandrian's host another party to boost morale and Daryl decides to go this time. What he wasn't expecting was to get roped into a makeover - or the heavy flirting from his sexy blue-eyed leader.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just want everyone to know that this was NOT a Rickyl fic when I started. But the story took on a life of its own so I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Shout-out to my girl taraburnett for being an amazing soundboard and motivation for this fic - chapter 2 is for you ;)

Deanna had decided to throw another party - since the last one had been such a smashing success - and the whole town was working really hard to get everything ready. Daryl watched from inside Aaron's garage as people bustled this way and that, carrying dishes and furniture and whatever else they needed for the festivities. Daryl snorted softly, still unable to wrap his head around the idea of something as ordinary as a fun get-together for friends and strangers alike. It was actually kind of... cool. The hunter looked down at his hands, stained black with dirt and motor oil and weeks' worth of other grime, and sighed. He started putting away tools, lining them up precisely where he had found them and wiped his hands pointlessly on the rag tucked in his pocket. He closed the rolling overhead door as he left, and strode off to the house he shared with his family, hoping that no one was home.  
  
They weren't. He knew it the moment he stepped inside, the house had that calm stillness that only came from being truly empty. Daryl began stripping out of his sweat-ridden clothes; draping his vest carefully over the back of a chair before tugging off his shirt and stepping out of his jeans. He wasn't wearing underwear. Then he grabbed a fresh towel from the linen closet ( _they had a linen closet!_ ) and entered the bathroom. He gazed into the mirror at the shaggy-haired, grease-stained, narrow-eyed reflection that stared back at him. He avoided letting his eyes fall to his shoulders, which still bore the marks of his brutal upbringing. Finally, he grabbed his toothbrush from its slot and squeezed a little toothpaste onto it before stepping into the tub and cranking on the shower. The spray was cold, but not that cold, and began to warm almost immediately. The hunter tried not to enjoy the hot spray too much. He didn't want to get used to these luxuries - not when they could be taken away at any time. He almost turned the knob back to cold but paused with his fingers on the cool metal, then let them fall back to his side.  
  
He allowed his head to drift under the steady stream of glorious, cleansing heat and felt his muscles relaxing immediately. Suddenly he understood why people sang in the shower. Not that he ever _would_... but he could understand it. His dark hair was plastered onto his face and he pushed his fingers through, slicking it back over his scalp so that he could see. Spotting a bottle of shampoo, he squeezed a healthy portion into his palm, wrinkling his nose at the powerful, fruity aroma that infused the steamy air. _Well great, always wanted to smell like a fruit salad_ , he thought grimly as he massaged the creamy product into his wet locks. He scrubbed hard, until his scalp was tender and the lather had slid down his body in streams of frothy bubbles. He used his hands to capture the stray soap, rubbing it all over his skin, watching the bubbles turn from white to grey as the dirt came free from his body. When he rinsed, the bottom of the tub was so dark with grimy water that he could barely see his toes. Daryl grabbed his toothbrush and began aggressively polishing away the build-up of plaque that had taken over his mouth in the past year. He spit the excess out and rinsed, gargling loudly and thoroughly then spat again. It was an extraordinary relief just to feel clean for the first time he could remember. He had bathed before, but it was usually in cold water and without soap. This was a true clean that he could feel down to his bones. He stood under the shower head, face raised into the steady pressure, allowing himself to enjoy the warmth and comfort of a world he thought had died a long time ago.  
  
Turning off the water, rather reluctantly, he wrapped a towel around his hips and stepped onto the slick tile, wiping the fog from the mirror. His hair looked almost black, wet and slicked back over his head - he felt odd without the long strands framing his face. Daryl flicked a finger under his chin, reviewing his facial hair situation... His beard looked rather ragged and unkempt. His facial hair always grew in unevenly, patchy, like a shedding dog - unlike Rick's. That man could grow a perfect salt and pepper beard - which looked professionally groomed - in a week, without even trying. _Jerk_. Daryl smirked, remembering the state of the constable's beard when they had first arrived in Alexandria; it hadn't been quite so neat and picture-perfect then. But Daryl had liked it - their leader had looked like a survivor; a mountain man with a thousand years of knowledge crammed into that wild scruff. Sure, he had looked a little bit crazy but Rick Grimes didn't need a beard to look crazy - he was perfectly capable of _that_ any old time. Daryl rummaged around, checking the medicine cabinet and drawers, finally pulling out what he was seeking.  
  
He eyed the clippers skeptically, wondering if it was worth the effort. After a long moment's deliberation he plugged it in and flicked the switch, feeling the mild vibration as a loud hum filled the air. He wiped the mirror again as steam tried to reclaim his reflection and brought the device to his face hesitantly. At last, gritting his teeth determinedly, he aimed the razor at his jaw line and made one smooth upward stroke, feeling the fine sprinkle of fuzz drifting onto his wrist. He inspected the result with his free hand but there was still a short scruff of stubble lining his cheek and he relaxed somewhat. He wasn't interested in the clean-cut, boy scout look but he didn't mind smoothing out the rough edges a little bit. He clicked on the shaver again and went to work, leaning over the sink to minimize the mess, and raised his eyebrows at the face that greeted him when he finished.  
  
With his hair pushed back and beard neatly trimmed he actually looked... presentable. Daryl scoffed, and tousled his damp hair so that it clung to his newly shaved cheeks in random, messy chunks. Much better. The hunter opened the bathroom door, watching the cloud of steam billow out then dissipate almost immediately, vanishing into the cool air without a trace. Treading silently through the living room to recover his clothes, he suddenly wheeled around, his instincts screaming that he was no longer alone. Carol was standing there, in her ridiculous soccer mom get-up, wearing a rather predatory grin. Daryl snatched his shirt and held it to his chest, scowling fiercely at her.  
  
"What the hell, woman? Can't a guy get some privacy 'round here?" he demanded, only half-joking.  
  
She shrugged, raising her eyebrows innocently, "Well, Deanna needed another tablecloth. Whatsa matter Pookie, you're not shy are ya?"  
  
"Shut up." he grunted, with a grudging smile.  
  
He had just started to pull on his shirt when it was yanked out of his hands. He made a grab for it but Carol had already balled it up and tossed it expertly into the laundry hamper. The hunter placed his hands on his hips in a silent, _Well what the hell am I supposed to wear now?_ gesture, which only earned him another impish grin. The older woman gathered up the rest of his clothes and they joined his shirt.  
  
"C'mon scruffball, the shower was a good start but there's not really much point if you put on the same dirty old clothes you've been wearing for months." she teased, as she wandered off down the hall.  
  
"Ain't seein' much else to wear around here!" he hollered after her in annoyance, when a polite knock sounded at the door. He spun about just as it opened, casting around rather wildly for something to cover himself. He snatched up the nearest blanket - Judith's fuzzy pink one - and draped it around his shoulders just in time to see Aaron walk into the room. The other man stopped in his tracks, jaw dropping slightly as he spotted Daryl, who flushed as pink as the tiny blanket he was trying to hide in.  
  
"Uh. Oh. Sorry Daryl, is -uh- is this a bad time?" Aaron stammered, his eyes now fixed on the ceiling somewhere above the flustered hunter's head. Before Daryl could tell him that it _was_ indeed a bad time, he heard Carol chime in from the other room.  
  
"Aaron, is that you?" her voice was moving closer, and she entered the room with an absolutely radiant smile, "Perfect timing. I need your help with a very, _very_ important mission."  
  
Daryl's heart sank. He had a **bad** feeling about this.  
  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Ten minutes later, a robe-clad Daryl was standing in Aaron and Eric's bedroom while they, and Carol, pulled out a staggering amount of clothing and began holding up each garment appraisingly before tossing them in a heap on the bed. The trio were conversing in low, serious tones and you'd have thought that they were planning for a damn war, not a party.  
  
"I think we need to find something white," Carol suggested, choosing a crisp button-down from the pile, "He's been wearing those dirty rags for so long, it would be a miracle to see him wearing an actual clean white shirt."  
  
"That's a possibility," Eric cut in, "but what about this red one - it would look great on him."  
  
Daryl opened his mouth but Carol spoke over him easily, "I don't know about red, he's covered in blood half the time anyway - we want to get away from that particular look."  
  
Eric nodded thoughtfully and dove back into the closet. More clothes flew out. Meanwhile, Carol was rummaging through the existing pile like a gold-miner sifting for a million dollar score. Daryl slumped onto the bed, scrubbing his hands over his newly-trimmed face with a groan. He _knew_ he should never have taken that shower. Aaron sat down next to him, wearing a sympathetic smile. Of the three conspirators, he had been the most concerned with Daryl's preference but even he had no chance of heading Carol off now that she had sunk her claws in.  
  
"Did you see _anything_ you might be willing to wear?" he asked, hopefully, "The sooner you find something, the sooner it'll be over."  
  
Daryl rolled his eyes and sighed, but reached over moodily and snatched a navy blue shirt from the heap next to him.  
  
"That one."  
  
Aaron grinned.  
  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Two hours later, Daryl was walking up the steps to Deanna's front door. He paused, tugging uncomfortably at his collar, loathing the tie he had been forced to wear. Spotting his reflection, he grimaced, barely recognizing the figure he saw in the darkened glass. He was wearing the navy blue shirt and a matching blue tie, as well a fancy friggin' satin vest and dark blue slacks. His hair was clean and combed, his beard neatly trimmed and not a drop of blood or grease anywhere to be seen.  
  
He looked ridiculous. Utterly and completely ridiculous and there was no friggin' _**way** _ he was going in that house. The hunter turned to bolt but found his escape blocked by a sweetly smiling Carol; with a platter of cookies in her hands - and murder in her eyes. Okay, _fine_. He'd go in. He shoved his hands in his pockets sulkily and stood off to one side as Carol knocked. Spencer opened the door with a forced smile and they exchanged pleasantries while Daryl snagged a cookie off the plate and slipped inside, looking for a dark corner to hide in before anyone spotted him.  
  
No such luck.  
  
The (formerly) scruffy archer found himself face-to-face with none other than Michonne, whose face spread into the largest, wickedest grin he had ever witnessed.  
  
"Well, well, well. Would ya look. At. That." she purred, stalking closer, "You clean up pretty good, Dixon. So, who do I owe?"  
  
"The hell you talkin' bout?" Daryl grumbled, feeling hot around the collar, noting that she was wearing a rather pretty purple dress that wrapped around her lean body and highlighted her glowing skin.  
  
"Well, I bet my last chocolate bar that no one was ever gonna get you outta those dirty old threads. Somebody is gonna be happy tonight."  
  
Daryl whipped around, eyes narrowed and spotted Carol, who gave them a dainty wave, looking supremely proud of herself. This was just getting better and better, wasn't it? He stalked off, ignoring Michonne's surprisingly girly giggle and snagged a beer from the cooler. He popped the cap off with his thumb and drained half in one long pull. Daryl raised the bottle to his lips for a second, smaller, sip and was startled by a hand on his shoulder. He almost choked on his beer when he saw Rick, wearing a simple white shirt and dark jeans, grinning at him with those twinkly, mischievous blue eyes.  
  
"Looking good, Dixon." he drawled quietly, leaning in to bump his shoulder playfully against Daryl's.  
  
Daryl glowered at him, trying and failing to hide the embarrassed smile that pulled insistently at the corner of his mouth. He ducked his head, thankful that he could still hide his burning cheeks behind his over-long hair, and handed Rick a second beer.  
  
"Cheers." the other man lifted his bottle, still smiling widely.  
  
Daryl clicked his his drink against Rick's and downed the rest of the bubbly liquid, wiping his mouth unceremoniously on his sleeve. Rick shook his head, chuckling at the hunter's small act of defiance. Daryl looked around the room, surveying the situation with trained eyes, noting each face and filing the information away, just in case. He heard a piercing wolf-whistle and Abraham caught his eye, raising his whiskey glass in an exaggerated salute while Tara and Rosita fell about, giggling madly. Sasha was standing apart from the rest, looking spooked - he hoped she would be able to keep her cool tonight. Carol was chatting airily with a group of housewives, who were gathered around the food-laden table. Daryl's belly growled hopefully but he knew there was no way he could go over there. Those mild-mannered little women would tear him apart and no one would ever find the remains. He was gonna stay right here, by the beer, where it was safe. Rick was watching him, with that little quirk of a smile, and Daryl knew the officer could hear his every thought. The sheriff didn't say anything though, just cracked open another beer and handed it to Daryl, who accepted it gratefully - his fingers lingering over Rick's for a beat longer than necessary.  
  
There was a burst of laughter across the room and Daryl saw two figures split off from the group, moving his direction. The hunter fought his immediate urge to flee, gripping his drink tightly, as Glenn and Maggie cornered him. Maggie's evil smile surely meant all kinds of terrible things that Daryl didn't want to endure.  
  
"So Daryl," Maggie's eyes were bright with undisguised glee, "Who are you all dressed up for? Anyone special?"  
  
Daryl rolled his eyes, carefully  _not_ glancing towards Rick as he did so, but something about the way her eyes flicked between them was making him nervous. Turning to Glenn instead, he tried to steer the conversation away from his stupid outfit and wondered how long until he could sneak away without Carol catching him.  
  
"Score anything good on today's run? I ain't seen dick-all out there lately." Daryl tugged at the knot that was trying to strangle him, loosening it off an inch and tried not to notice the way Rick bit his lip.  
  
Glenn shrugged, "Same here, we got a few batteries and lightbulbs. Not much worth bragging about - not like your new look."  
  
Daryl glared as Maggie snorted in a very unladylike fashion, but then it got much worse. She reached into her tiny purse with nimble fingers and suddenly there was a blinding flash. He blinked hard to dispel the bright spots floating around the edge of his vision, holding up a defensive hand as she raised the camera again.  
  
"C'mon boys, huddle up!" she crowed, "We are **so** getting pictures of this."  
  
Suddenly Daryl found himself pinned between his friends, who both smiled obligingly, clamping their arms across the archer's over-dressed shoulders. He knew resistance was futile but he was still damn well gonna try to get out of this mess. The flash snapped three more times as he struggled, turning his face away in a useless attempt to avoid the obnoxious brightness of the camera. He found his face tucked into Rick's firm shoulder and took a deep, shaky breath - fuck. He smelled _good._ After a moment he glanced up to see Maggie wearing a triumphant expression and his heart sank - _No._ Please don't let there be photographic evidence of that. _Please_... but there was. She turned the camera and there he was, snuggled against his leader's neck, while Rick looked down at him with a tender smile. Daryl thought he might die of humiliation right then and there.  
  
Glenn let out a low whistle while Maggie seemed transported with delight. Daryl made a lunge for the camera but she snatched it back easily, partly because Rick's arm was still around his shoulder, holding him back. His tormentors were suddenly joined by Michonne, Tara, Abraham and Rosita who were all highly delighted by his predicament, each of them insisting on multiple pictures alongside the increasingly crimson hunter. They enlisted the help of one of the Alexandrians to take a group shot and Daryl found himself, once again, pressed far too close to Rick and smelling his damned cologne... Everyone was howling with laughter at this point, clearly they had all been drinking _way_ too much. He heard snatches of what sounded like " _Rick and Daryl sitting in a tree_ " and felt his already bright red face actually catch fire. He tried to make a break for it, slipping between Maggie and Rosita, but found himself seized by Abraham's huge fist as the soldier bellowed with laughter.  
  
Finally, Rick took pity on him and stepped in, raising his voice over the merriment, "Alright, alright, enough!" his tone was pleasant but authoritative, "Y'all have had your fun, now leave the man alone. Go on, go enjoy the party. Meet new people - and leave the old ones alone."  
  
The group looked disappointed at their fun being ruined but didn't dare argue when they saw the dangerous glint in Rick's eye. Finally they drifted off, dispersing into the crowd and Daryl released a huff of relief. He glanced up at Rick gratefully, wanting nothing more than to drag him into the nearest closet and-  
  
"So how are Aaron and Eric?" Rick's smooth voice cut over that thought just in time. "I haven't seen them here tonight."  
  
"Yeah. They said they were gonna come a little later, Aaron was planning on catching a nap and Eric didn't wanna come alone with his bad ankle." Daryl shrugged, glancing at the older man who was still standing closer than was strictly necessary.  
  
"Good. I like them, they seem like nice people." Rick replied as he poured himself a glass of cognac, neat.  
  
The hunter nodded in agreement, fidgeting restlessly with the buttons at his sleeve - he was feeling distinctly claustrophobic and wondered if this was the perfect moment to make his escape. Just as he was about to make an excuse to slip away, Carl appeared and Daryl noticed immediately that he was holding hands with the pretty brunette whose name he thought was Edith. Or something like that.  
  
"Oh hey, Dad!" Carl dropped the girl's hand swiftly, "Pretty good party, hey? Whoa-" Suddenly his eyes landed on Daryl and nearly popped out of his head, "What are you _wearing,_ dude?"  
  
"Watch it, punk," the hunter growled, "It certainly looks like you're enjoyin' yourself." he teased lightly, nodding to the shy-looking girl.  
  
Carl reddened, his freckles glowing in the dim light and muttered, "C'mon, Enid."  
  
The pair disappeared as quickly as they had turned up, leaving Rick and Daryl alone once again. Daryl coughed uncomfortably, his fingers tugging at the fabric around his throat again and he vowed that he was going to burn this damn tie the first chance he got. Daryl was regretting every choice he had made today. He shouldn't have taken the day off from his recruiting duty to work on the bike - even though it needed it. He shouldn't have taken that shower that left him smelling like a mango. He shouldn't have allowed Carol to rope him into wearing this monkey suit. He shouldn't have drank that sixth beer which he could feel coursing through his veins, leaving him warm and tingling all over. He definitely shouldn't be drifting closer to Rick, so that their arms brush together temptingly. He dragged his fingers through his hair, pulling it forward slightly to obscure his face, not that it helped in the slightest. The hunter could feel Rick's steady gaze and was trying valiantly not to look into those mesmerizing blue eyes when the other man nudged his arm.  
  
"Y'know, you really do look good tonight, Daryl." he said, quiet and serious, "But all I can think about is getting you out of those clothes later."  
  
If Daryl had just taken a drink, Rick would be wearing it right then. As it was, the hunter still found himself spluttering in shock, staring at the calm expression on his captain's face. Was he fucking serious or had Rick suddenly developed a very strange sense of humor? Rick cocked an eyebrow and bit his lip suggestively leaving Daryl even more perplexed. Trying to compose himself, he cast around desperately for a new conversational topic.  
  
"Where's Judith?" he heard himself blurt out, and was surprised to see Rick flush a little.  
  
"She uh, she's at Jessie's tonight." the constable admitted, looking oddly discomfited.  
  
"Oh. Right." Daryl frowned, trying to ignore the little stab of jealousy, "How is she? Jessie, I mean?"  
  
Rick sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, "She's... she's good. Good as she can be, I guess."  
  
Daryl nodded silently, studying the other man's troubled expression and wondered if Rick was still planning to pursue the newly widowed blonde. He had no reason not to - other than being responsible for putting a bullet in her husband's brain. Daryl hoped with all his heart that the events of that night had jarred some sense into Rick. He had certainly seemed much less agitated the last couple weeks, not wound so tight that he might snap at any moment. Daryl had still caught him staring at Jessie a few times but there was something different in his eyes now; it was less hungry and more pitying. Or maybe guilty. Either way, the hunter didn't get the impression that Rick was planning on shacking up with her any time soon. On the other hand, Rick had rarely ever allowed Judith to stay with someone outside of their tightly knit group - why would he do that unless he was planning on getting closer to her?  
  
Rick cleared his throat, "I just thought, y'know after everything... She likes babies. I thought spending an evening with Judith might take her mind off things." he admitted, with a sheepish little laugh, "And... I wanted to be here in case you decided to show. So it worked out for everyone."  
  
"That right?" Daryl tried not to sound so hopeful but it wasn't working. He wasn't sure what had gotten into Rick tonight but he seemed extremely flirty - more than usual - and bold. The hunter had known for ages that there was some unresolved sexual tension between them but he had never expected anything to come of it. Not really. He had hoped sometimes, especially back at the prison during that brief golden window of peace when everyone was happy and content and life was good. Then that fell apart and he and Rick had gotten separated... When they finally found each other again, Daryl had been terrified that Rick would kick him out on his ass for rolling with those twisted bastards. But he hadn't. He had called Daryl his brother, family, instead. Daryl was so relieved and so grateful that he hadn't given a second thought toward being anything more.. Until tonight.  
  
Daryl was hyper-aware of Rick's warm skin, even through two layers of clothing, where it brushed against his arm and sent chills running down his spine. Glancing over through his long hair, he studied Rick's profile: his sharp jawline with its second day stubble, those perceptive blue eyes that gleamed in the dim lighting, the crinkly lines at the corners of his eyes, his perfectly full lips... _Shit_. He was fucking gorgeous. The hunter could feel himself blushing again and shook his hair forward to conceal his heated cheeks just as the front door opened again and Aaron and Eric stepped inside, smiling and holding hands. Daryl gave Aaron a little nod when he waved and the couple began weaving towards him through the crowd.  
  
"They're a good couple." Rick observed, brushing his fingers subtly against Daryl's, "They look really happy together."  
  
"Yeah," Daryl choked in surprise at the contact, "Yeah they are."  
  
Then the aforementioned couple was there, greeting Rick and Daryl politely as they poured themselves a drink. Daryl tried to focus on the conversation but he was being driven to distraction by Rick's fingers, slowly stroking the inside of his palm. Their bodies were so close together that he was certain no one could actually see their hands... but standing this close was surely just as suggestive as holding hands. Daryl caught another heady whiff of Rick's cologne and nearly groaned, wanting to dive forward and taste those amazing lips. He was dizzy and knew that it had nothing to do with alcohol. Finally, he managed to stop reeling long enough to hear a snatch of the discussion happening before him.  
  
"...Wow, Maggie and the others sure seem to be having a good time tonight," Aaron noted, indicating the group who were still laughing and becoming increasingly louder, "Its good to see that they are relaxing around here. I knew you would fit in perfectly once you gave it a chance."  
  
Daryl smiled; there was Aaron again, being so earnest and optimistic about everything. It was sort of adorable. The archer had never had a chance to be that positive and enthusiastic about anything in his life. For him, life was just a bunch of shit piled on top of more shit. Good things happened to other people, not to him. Except for tonight, he reminded himself as Rick's strong fingers twined through his. Daryl knew it would be rude to drag the officer away to a dark room while he was in the middle of a friendly chat but _Damn_ he really wished he could... He realized he was staring at the little V of Rick's shirt where the skin on his chest was tempting him to lean in and take a nice long taste, while he slowly unbuttoned that shirt....  
  
"What do you think Daryl, are they gonna start a karaoke night?" Eric asked, causing Daryl to jump a mile and blush like a school girl.  
  
"Uh- oh haha. Y'never really know with Maggie and Abraham seems like he'd rock the microphone." the hunter responded as he considered the group who were indeed gathered around what looked like an old karaoke machine and clearly arguing about something. While Daryl watched, they seemed to come to a decision and started pushing buttons, looking drunkenly determined. They kept glancing back toward him and Rick and giggling - it was making the archer very nervous.  
  
Then the music started. Daryl recognized the song immediately and groaned, clapping a hand over his face in resignation. He _knew_ they were up to something!  
  
Maggie stepped up to the mic first, her voice surprisingly strong as she sang: " _Clean shirt, new shoes... And I don't know where I'm going to. Silk suit, black tie - I don't need a reason why."_ She was grinning right at Daryl, her eyes full of devilish humor.  
  
Then Abraham jumped in, with his rich bass: " _They come a'runnin' just as fast as they can - cuz every girl crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man!"_ the giant ginger threw him a sloppy salute and roared with laughter, handing the mic over to Tara who jumped in gleefully.  
  
That's it, it was definitely time to leave. Daryl gritted his teeth and tried to make a break for the door but felt himself stopped by a firm grip. Rick's finger's were still laced through his and the leader's eyes were dancing with mischief as he pulled Daryl back against his side. The older man leaned in, tantalizingly close to whisper in Daryl's ear,  
  
"You're not going anywhere - I love this song." Rick ordered, his warm breath immediately melting away all of Daryl's thoughts of escape.  
  
"- _ain't missin' not a single thing. And cuff-links, stick pin. When I step out, I'm gonna do you iiiiin!"_ Tara's voice was terrible but she made up for it with volume and enthusiasm, Daryl felt himself grinning despite his embarrassment when the entire room burst into applause, whooping and whistling at the dark-haired girl who took an exaggerated bow and nearly fell over. Michonne rescued the microphone from the wobbly lesbian and tipped Daryl a wink as she launched into the next line.  
  
_"Top coat, top hat - Well, I don't worry cuz my wallet's fat. Black shades, white gloves. Lookin' sharp, lookin' for looooove!"_ the gorgeous swordbearer sang like she did everything else: beautifully, gracefully, effortlessly. The crowd actually looked too stunned to applaud.  
  
All six of them gathered around the mic stand for the chorus, " _They come a runnin' just as fast as they cannnn - Cuz everybody crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man!"_ They all finished at different times, with Tara dragging out the last note so long Daryl thought she would pass out from oxygen deprivation. There was a storm of clapping and laughter as the group linked hands and dropped into an awkward curtsy. As the tipsy troupe stumbled away from the mic, Daryl turned to speak to Aaron - perhaps to apologize for the antics of his friends - when he saw that the other man was looking down at where his own fingers were still linked with Rick's, as casually as could be. Aaron said nothing, only gave him a brief, encouraging smile and then turned to speak to Eric is a low voice.  
  
Daryl thought he should be more embarrassed about this but he seemed to have reached his humiliation limit for one evening. Besides, it was hard to be ashamed of something that just felt so _right_. Tentatively, he allowed himself to squeeze Rick's fingers then circled his thumb a little shakily on the inside of his palm. The smile he received nearly knocked him on his ass and he was about half a second from leaning in to kiss that gorgeous face when he heard an ear-splitting shriek.  
  
The hunter whipped around, hand snapping instinctively to the knife concealed behind his belt, instantly geared up for trouble but then he saw that it was only Rosita. She was clinging to Abraham as he tickled her sides making her squeal with laughter. The burly redhead swung the tiny sharp-shooter into air then dipped her low and caught her in a sloppy, whiskery kiss while she slapped at his broad chest playfully. Daryl let out a low sigh of relief, shaking his head as Rick chuckled next to him. The defensive motion had pulled the companions apart and Daryl's hand felt cold and lonely with the sudden loss of contact. It was almost shocking how much he already missed something he had only felt for a few brief minutes. The hunter wanted desperately to take the older man's hand again but he shoved his fists into his pockets instead, hunching against the table dejectedly. At that moment Michonne, Tara, Maggie and Glenn turned up again and several things happened at once...  
  
  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Maggie was watching through the crowd of increasingly inebriated Alexandrians, as Rick and Daryl flirted all night, their bodies tucked so close together she would have sworn they were glued that way. Then a piercing giggle rung out over the music and both Daryl and Rick were instantly on guard, hands disappearing to clutch at hidden weapons - all because Abe had to go and tickle Rosita! Who would have thought such a tiny little girl could make that much noise, anyway? Now the tense moment had passed, both men grinned and relaxed visibly... but they weren't touching anymore. Maggie could practically hear the insecure hamster running off its wheel in Daryl's brain, he looked so _sad._ No. This was unacceptable. Those two idiots were going to hook up tonight _-finally_ \- if it was the last thing she ever did. The fiery brunette grabbed Glenn by the elbow, dragging her nonplussed husband over to where Tara and Michonne were visiting near the window.  
  
"Alright everybody, listen up!" she demanded, military-fashion, "Now we all know those two idiots belong together but at this rate they are never gonna figure it out for themselves, right?"  
  
Tara and Michonne were both nodding in agreement while Glenn simply looked confused, "Wait, um...who..what idiots are we talking about exactly?"  
  
Maggie rolled her eyes and slapped his shoulder lightly, "Rick and Daryl, obviously!" _God_. If all men were this dense no wonder Rickyl hadn't happened yet.  
  
Tara spoke up next, her eyes sparkling with drunken mischief, "So what's the plan? How do we get them to bang each others' brains out?"  
  
Michonne snickered and shoved her playfully, causing the tipsy brunette to splash her last drop of wine onto the nearby drapes.  
  
"Oh shit!" both women gasped at the same time, as they began attacking the tiny stain with a napkin. Maggie, however, felt her grin returning. _Oh yes_. That would be _perfect._  
  
  
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Daryl groaned internally as the quartet reappeared, apparently deep in conversation. Then, without warning, Michonne swung her arm out expressively, striking Tara's too-full glass of red wine. The crimson liquid launched gracefully through the air, arching perfectly to splash all over Daryl's head and shoulders - and, judging by the shocked gasp next to him, it had caught Rick as well. The wine glass turned artfully in the air and plummeted toward the hardwood... only to be caught by Michonne's lightning-quick fingers. Immediately, Maggie was in front of Daryl and Rick, fussing over the state of their new clothes. Daryl didn't understand what the big damn deal was - they'd both been covered in _far_ worse.  
  
"Oh, what an awful mess! You boys better get home right now before those stains set - go on now!"  
  
Her stern tone brooked no argument so Rick just caught Daryl's eye and shrugged, gesturing for the hunter to lead the way. Many of the party-goers had trickled out, leaving the room much less crowded than before, but Rick still walked so close that Daryl could feel the heat of him against his back. When they finally stepped out into the brisk night air onto Deanna's porch, Daryl felt as though he had been splashed with icy water. It was breathtaking and invigorating, yet also left him stricken by reality as everything that had occurred inside became intensely _real._ Rick had been flirting with him, teasing him, _holding his hand!_ The shy archer cautiously chanced a peek at his leader, but Rick was gazing upwards into clear night sky, his eyes reflecting a million tiny points of light.  
  
"Wow..." Rick breathed, in wonder, "That's a beautiful view."  
  
"Yeah," Daryl agreed, his eyes still fixed on Rick's striking profile, "It really is..."  
  
Rick's lips curved into that perfect little smile but he waited a few long moments before he turned to meet Daryl's worshipful gaze. The already-cool air froze in the hunter's lungs, leaving him breathless as Rick drifted forward, closing the short gap between their chests. Daryl stepped back slightly, bumping against the crisp white railing next to the stairs. Rick slid even closer, their bodies fitting together perfectly, a line of blazing heat in the chilly darkness. He could feel the other man's warm breath on his skin - they were so _close_. Daryl was struck motionless by what he hoped - what he knew- was about to happen. The hunter's eyes fluttered shut as Rick's nose brushed ever-so-lightly against his own. Their lips were barely an inch apart and Daryl wondered what the hell Rick was waiting for...  
  
After a second that felt like an eternity, Daryl steeled himself and pressed forward, brushing tentatively against Rick's smooth lips. He felt, rather than heard, Rick's little gasp and then the officer was pinning Daryl back against the rail as he licked his way into the hunter's mouth. Daryl groaned softly as he slid his hands up Rick's wine-stained shirt, stroking over stubbled cheeks and winding through his thick, dark curls.  
  
" _Rick..._ " he gasped against the other man's open mouth, "Jesus, Rick... I-"  
  
The officer cut off further talk by biting down on the archer's lip while his hands wound around Daryl's back; sliding up under the vest that Daryl had forgotten he was wearing. They sank deeper into the kiss, Daryl felt his back arching slightly as Rick bent him over the rail precariously... and then suddenly the constable drew back, pulling away from the kiss with effort. He was breathing fast, his full lips glistening slightly, pupils clearly dilated even by the faint glow of the moon. Cold air rushed to fill the sudden gap between their bodies and Daryl shivered, hugging himself instinctively, his joyous mood crashing down around him.  
  
"Daryl." Rick's voice was trembling slightly as the older man held out his hand, "Would you like to walk me home?"  
  
Relief exploded in Daryl's chest. He returned Rick's hopeful smile tenfold and reached out to capture Rick's strong fingers with his own. The pair strolled leisurely down the sidewalk, hand-in-hand, neither of them noticing the small cluster of eyes that were peering out from behind the drapes at the window.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the fun continues

Rick felt as though he were dreaming, wandering down the silent abandoned street, stealing glances at the taciturn hunter. When Daryl caught him, Rick couldn't help but blush a little and was grateful that the darkness would conceal his reddened cheeks. He had no idea why he was suddenly so incredibly nervous - they had been flirting all night! Daryl had been the one blushing whenever Rick touched him, or leaned close to whisper in the hunter's ear. And it was freaking adorable. Rick could survive on the memory of that shy little smile and those precious pink cheeks for the rest of his life - he would fight a thousand walkers just to see it again and again and again.  
  
He squeezed Daryl's fingers a little tighter as they passed the corner house; they were only a few doors away from home. As much as the officer wanted to get Daryl back home so he could help him out of those sticky clothes, he also didn't want this walk to end - ever. Being here with Daryl, in this stillness... it was easy to imagine that they were the only people in the world. Rick wished he knew how to dance because surely _this_ was the perfect moment: Under the stars, with the man he loved... The constable stumbled slightly, caught off-guard by that final stray thought, but recovered quickly as Daryl turned toward him with curious eyes.  
  
"Y'alright, Rick?" Daryl's low gravelly voice made Rick feel warm all over, even as chills raced up his spine.  
  
"Yeah.. I'm good." Rick reassured the hunter, "I am now."  
  
Daryl gave him that sidelong look, with a faint smile on his lips and suddenly Rick couldn't take it any more. He stopped short, pulling Daryl's hand so that the hunter swung in a half circle and met Rick, chest-to-chest. Rick knew he was smiling as he leaned in to taste the archer again. Rick heard a breathy moan as Daryl matched his kiss eagerly, his hands quickly moving up to grip the officer's hair firmly and Rick regretted, yet again, ever allowing Jessie to cut it. He vowed at that moment to never cut his hair again, unless Daryl requested it. Now Daryl was forcing him back, guiding him over a smooth green lawn until the two of them were tucked out of sight between two identical suburban bungalows. Rick grinned, and his hands immediately moved up to Daryl's throat, deftly stripping away the tie that had so annoyed the younger man. Nimble fingers slid down to start on the vest while Daryl's kisses began drifting down to taste Rick's throat, licking away sweet, sticky drops of wine.  
  
The hunter's lips slowed when he found his progress blocked by crimson-splashed fabric, so he began sucking at Rick's collarbone instead while he attempted to free the slippery little buttons with one hand - his other hand was still tangled in Rick's hair. They were pressed against the cold side of the building, their hips grinding together rhythmically, gasping against each others' skin, their hands trying desperately to explore every inch they could reach.  
  
"Daryl..." Rick heard himself whispering into the hunter's wine-scented hair, "Oh fuck, Daryl- I need you baby..." _  
  
_ "Christ, Rick!" Daryl muttered, scraping his teeth against the sensitive skin along Rick's clavicle, "I've wanted this - wanted you - for as long as I can fuckin' remember."   
  
W _hat the fuck are we doing out here then?_ Rick wondered as Daryl finally managed to undo the first two buttons of his previously white shirt, the hunter's lips immediately traveling further down his chest. Rick let his hands run gently over the younger man's long hair, which was still damp and sticky with pinot noir. He was torn between continuing this right here - having wild sex under the stars did seem rather fitting for them - or walking the next twenty steps and dragging the hunter into the house where they could take their time... Yes, that was definitely better. Their first time deserved to be special.  
  
With strong, gentle hands Rick drew Daryl upright for another long, slow kiss then leaned his forehead against the hunter's and let out a shaky little laugh. He caught both of Daryl's hands in his own and drew them up against his chest, gazing into Daryl's hooded blue eyes as he dropped a sweet kiss on the hunter's nose.  
  
"C'mon Dixon, we're not home yet." Rick walked backwards, still clutching both of those rough, calloused hands against his exposed chest as he tried not to stumble over the neighbor's driveway. Daryl ran his tongue over his lip hungrily, his darkened eyes drilling into the disheveled officer, guiding him firmly toward their front door. Rick's heel knocked loudly against the bottom step and he nearly toppled backwards, but Daryl caught him easily, drawing him in for another messy kiss as Rick tried to navigate the stairs in reverse. Finally, he found himself shoved against the solid wooden door and Daryl lunged. The hunter's mouth was hot and hungry against his own, shaking hands were shoving under his shirt, rough fingertips grazing over Rick's warm stomach. Rick chuckled as those questing fingers found a ticklish spot along his ribs. Daryl paused for a moment, lips still pressed against Rick's, then began tickling in earnest, his fingers kneading into the skin, causing Rick to squirm in his grip.  
  
"D-Daryl-no! Stop, please!!" Rick giggled helplessly, his pelvis bucking forward convulsively against Daryl and the hunter faltered again, his eyes going wide as they fell to where their hips were pressed together tightly. Rick could feel how hard Daryl was through his dark blue slacks, and was aware that he was equally aroused. The officer slowly rolled his hips forward again, deliberately grinding his erection against Daryl's and savoring the way the other man's jaw went slack and his eyes drifted closed. One hand slid up, reverently carding through the hunter's damp locks, drawing him in for a soft, slow kiss that rocked him down to his toes while his other hand fumbled blindly for the door knob. Then suddenly he felt himself toppling backwards, aided by the weight of Daryl's firm body, pressed so close they were practically occupying the same space. They landed in a heap of sticky, giggling limbs and Rick thought the sight of Daryl poised above him, smiling that gorgeous crinkly-eyed smile was the most perfect thing he could ever imagine.  
  
  
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Daryl realized, a second too late, that Rick had managed to operate the door knob and then he was falling. The hunter kept one arm locked around the constable's back while his other arm shot forward to catch himself before he crushed him. The pair still landed heavily but Rick was laughing and Daryl couldn't resist laughing along, feeling certain that he was going to wake up from this beautiful dream any second and he might as well enjoy it while it lasted. Somehow, during the fall, Rick's legs had managed to wrap themselves around the hunter's waist. The heat of Rick's body beneath him was intoxicating and his hips jerked forward of their own accord, thrusting between Rick's denim-clad legs. The officer's head dropped back, his mouth open in a perfect gasp. Daryl thrust again, intentionally this time, one hand pinning Rick's hips so that he didn't slide away on the smooth hardwood while the other held himself up so that he could watch every amazing gasp and whimper that fell from his leader's lovely mouth.  
  
"Oh fuck, Rick..." he heard himself groaning softly, as his hips continued to move deliciously against the other man's; Rick's answering whine only inflamed him further. He knew that he was quickly losing control and he should stop, he should let Rick up, they shouldn't be moving so fast.. But Rick's hips were rising to meet each of Daryl's thrusts, Rick's hands were shaking as they struggled to undo the buttons on Daryl's stupid, annoying (beautiful, wonderful, amazing) blue shirt. Rick finally freed the last button and his hands were instantly trying to shove it off of Daryl's shoulders, knocking Daryl's elbow askew in his haste. Daryl fell atop of Rick, chuckling low in his throat, feeling his heart thudding giddily in his chest.  
  
"Hey, maybe we should get the door closed, 'fore we get any more clothes off." The hunter dropped a chaste peck on those kiss-swollen lips then reluctantly pushed himself onto his knees, maneuvering sideways slightly so that he could swing the door shut. It was dark and quiet in the house. Daryl leaned back to flick the lock on the door and Rick's teeth flashed white in the darkness as Daryl clambered to his feet and offered the sheriff his hand, drawing him up effortlessly into another deep lazy kiss. As Daryl's sight adjusted to the dimness he was able to make out the shine of Rick's eyes and the sharp, yet delicate, curve of his jawline. God, this man was truly exquisite...  
  
They wandered down the hallway, kissing often, their hands still linked together until they found their way into the spacious bathroom and finally clicked on a light. The soft, warm glow of the bulb was still enough to sting the archer's eyes but he couldn't take his eyes off the sight before him: He, Daryl Dixon, was holding the hand of Rick Grimes. He met Rick's eyes in the mirror for split second before both men turned and their mouths met in a desperate, heated clash of lips and tongue, moaning softly, names gasped between kisses as they began stripping each others' clothes off in earnest. Their shirts and under shirts came off quickly, only breaking their frenzied kiss for the briefest moment and then they were skin-to-skin and Rick's body felt like molten desire under the hunter's touch. Daryl leaned against the counter, toeing off his shoes, while Rick's warm hands yanked his belt off with flourish. The strip of leather and steel clattered loudly on the tiled floor, then Rick was shoving Daryl's pants down to his ankles and dropping to his knees to help remove the bunched fabric. Daryl looked down at those dark curls, biting his lip when Rick's warm cheek brushed against the erection straining through Daryl's black boxer-briefs. Rick froze, then turned slowly as if in sudden realization of where he was and what he was doing. His face tilted up, meeting Daryl's heated gaze with uncertain eyes, his tongue darting out to wet his already glossy lips. Fingertips grazed Daryl's thigh as they reached up and hesitantly slipped under Daryl's waistband and began to pull.  
  
The hunter's breath stuttered to a halt as Rick's rough fingertips dragged the black fabric down his hips with agonizing slowness, then huffed out in a startled gasp as his cock sprang free, bobbing mere inches from Rick's lips. Daryl struggled desperately to form a coherent thought as Rick's warm palm closed around the base of his aching shaft, squeezing gently then traveling shakily up his length and back down more swiftly. Daryl heard his own grunt of shocked pleasure, the hunter gripped the counter behind him the keep from buckling. Rick smiled. The older man seemed encouraged by his hunter's reaction and continued to move his fist loosely up and down Daryl's hot shaft and Daryl knew he was whimpering, begging, pleading for Rick to continue, to never ever stop, _just more - please more..._

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Rick obliged, more than willingly, his head dipping forward eagerly to run his warm wet tongue across the leaking head of Daryl's cock, earning a surprised yelp as Daryl's legs jerked with pleasure, forcing his thick tip between Rick's lips for the briefest second. The hunter moaned indistinctly, his trembling hands finding their way back into Rick's thick dark hair, fisting almost painfully. Rick allowed himself a small grin then wrapped his lips around the hunter's cock brazenly. Daryl cried out incomprehensibly, as the cop's mouth relaxed enough for him to push forward, sinking into that incredible warm, wet heat and Rick began bobbing up and down the archer's shaft, groaning around his cock _-fuck, oh fuck- jesus christ Rick, yes!-_ Rick felt Daryl's cock twitching in his palm and knew that the hunter wouldn't last much longer if he kept this up but he didn't care. He wanted to feel Daryl come, to taste it, to watch Daryl fucking fall apart and _HE_ wanted to be the reason it happened. So Rick gripped that thick shaft harder, his fist pumping up and down the spit-slicked length in harmony with his mouth, driving the hunter to screaming ecstasy within a few minutes. Daryl's entire body spasmed violently under Rick's hands, knocking the sheriff's lips away and then Daryl's cum was spurting across Rick's chin and chest instead. Those slender fingers were stroking adoringly through Rick's now thoroughly mussed locks and Daryl was murmuring quiet words of bliss as he sagged back against the counter.  
  
"Holy.. fuck. Rick, that was amazing..." the hunter's rough voice was a low rasp, barely audible over his ragged sighs of pleasure.  
  
Rick remained on his knees long enough to finish divesting the hunter of his pants and socks, laying soft kisses along the other man's pale skin as he did so. Then he rose up and caught the younger man in a languid kiss; enjoying the lazy, relaxed feel of Daryl's lips after his orgasm and how pliant the hunter's lean body felt against his. Rick was content to allow Daryl to ride out his afterglow, not seeking to rush the other man but very soon Daryl's touch became more urgent. Rick allowed Daryl to lead him back until they bumped against the side of the tub, then the archer's deft fingers were at the older man's waist, loosening his belt and frantically undoing the button so that he could push his jeans and white boxers to the ground in a heap. Rick awkwardly kicked off his shoes and pulled his ankles free from the stiff material bundled around them, surprised but grateful when his socks came off too. And then they were stepping into the tub, Daryl's mouth exploring Rick's lean, powerful chest as the hunter reached past the constable's waist to turn on the shower. Rick squealed in shock as the sputter of icy water flooded over his heated skin but Daryl held him firm, chuckling against the older man's now goosebump-riddled skin. The contrast of Daryl's warm mouth against his chilled flesh felt fantastic and a low moan slipped past Rick's lips. The swirling water around them was tinged pink as the wine was rinsed free from their skin and hair but neither of them noticed.  
  
The hunter's hands were moving smoothly, reverently, over Rick's slick skin as the water quickly warmed and steam began to fill air. He slid lower to cup the sheriff's tight ass, squeezing playfully then allowed one finger to tease over the cleft. Rick startled slightly, not jerking away from the unexpected touch but not relaxing into it either. Daryl seemed aware of his unease and moved his hands away, wrapping around Rick's muscular back instead. As they pressed into the corner of the shower, Rick's still-hard cock rubbed provocatively against the hunter's firm wet thigh and Rick whimpered softly into the younger man's neck, grinding against that leg, desperate for release. Strong hands, softened by the warm water, nudged Rick back against the cold, tiled wall and Daryl smirked at Rick's whine of protest.  
  
"I got you Rick, don't you worry 'bout that." the hunter promised, huskily "M'gonna take real good care a you.."  
  
Rick shuddered with anticipation at the growl in Daryl's voice, his knees felt weak already and Daryl hadn't even laid a finger on his aching cock. It didn't take long for the hunter to rectify that oversight and Rick felt a jolt of pleasure rock him straight to his toes as that warm wet hand closed around his shaft. Daryl's mouth found Rick's again as his hand started stroking in a slow, hesitant rhythm. He was just beginning to relax into the firm grip, enjoying the slide of Daryl's calloused palm over his length when the hunter's other hand slipped down to cup his balls. Rick loosed a muffled grunt against Daryl's mouth, their teeth bumping together uncomfortably and Daryl drew back with a chuckle, his hands still working their magic on Rick's incredibly sensitive cock. The older man leaned his head back against the firm, cool wall behind him, head spinning from the steamy heat and the intense pleasure that was traveling through his body in electric waves - and possibly from a lack of blood flow to his brain. His eyes had drifted shut but they sprang open instantly when he felt Daryl sinking to his knees under the hot spray. Rick stared down , torn between elation and terror, then he saw Daryl's long dark hair plastered to the sides of his face and a laugh bubbled up in his chest. God, he was so fucking gorgeous. Rick's hands cupped those stubble-strewn cheeks tenderly and he felt a loving smile pull at his lips. Daryl glared.  
  
"This ain't a fuckin' romance novel, Rick!"  
  
And with that, his mouth closed over the head of Rick's throbbing dick and Rick's hands instantly clenched in that long, wet hair to keep himself from tumbling forward in shock. Daryl's mouth was hot and slippery, his tongue lapping and swirling eagerly over the tip while his hand worked in a counter rhythm, meeting Daryl's lips each time he bobbed forward. Rick was instantly a moaning, gasping mess; begging for more and pleading for the hunter to slow down at the same time. It was just so fucking perfect. Rick could barely see straight, his vision blurring and twisting as Daryl sucked him deeper and harder. Daryl's spare hand had paused while the hunter found all of the weak spots on Rick's cock but now it began to stroke, gently tracing over each one then slowly seeking to press deeper between Rick's flexed legs. The sheriff spread his thighs without thinking, a moan ripping from his lungs as Daryl's teeth scraped lightly over the head of his cock. Then those slender fingers were kneading skillfully at Rick's perineum and Rick's knees buckled, his hand shooting out to brace himself before he collapsed on Daryl's face and ruined the moment. Rick's thighs were shaking uncontrollably as Daryl's finger drifted a little further and began stroking tiny, teasing circles around Rick's hole. Rick whimpered softly at the touch, wanting more, yet afraid to relax enough to allow Daryl's finger inside.  
  
"Rick," Daryl's voice was steady, like his eyes, as he met Rick's gaze, "I wanna fuck you, more than I can even describe.." his finger pressed a little harder against the tight hole, then paused "But we ain't doin' nuthin' you aren't comfortable with, mmkay?"  
  
Rick nodded, a quick shaky jerk of his chin, then lifted his foot onto the rim of the tub, allowing Daryl easier access to his most intimate area. Daryl huffed out a sharp breath and immediately dove forward to take Rick's cock in his mouth again, forcing it so deep that Rick felt the back of the hunter's throat. Daryl's questing finger was spiraling around Rick's rim again, slowing now and then to dip in slightly then returning to its patient rounds until Rick deliberately pushed down against it.  
  
Daryl paused.  
  
Rick paused.  
  
Their eyes met and Rick bit his lip and gave the hunter a reassuring nod. Then Daryl drew the finger to his mouth, licking and wetting it thoroughly with slick saliva before returning it to carefully brush over Rick's puckered hole. He pressed in, one knuckle-deep, so slowly and carefully that Rick saw stars. It didn't hurt precisely - it felt fucking fantastic, actually - but there was a slight burn that Rick was nervous about. If an inch of Daryl's slim finger hurt a little bit then how would his whole cock feel? Rick's own dick throbbed eagerly, clearly excited by the prospect and Rick relaxed again. Daryl was watching him carefully and when he saw Rick's breathing even out he pushed, slowly but insistently until his entire middle finger slid into Rick's tightness. The hunter waited as Rick panted against the stretch, his eyes screwed shut, until the tension eased from his body, though his legs were still quivering somewhat. The constable rocked his hips forward encouragingly against Daryl's hand and moaned softly as the archer's finger shifted inside him. Daryl drew his long finger back to the last inch then pushed back in, a little faster than before and Rick gasped in unadulterated pleasure this time. _Fuck_. That felt good. _Really fucking good_. Daryl grinned a little smugly as Rick ground down on his fist, moaning brokenly.  
  
"Y' like that, Officer?" he asked, his voice rich with mischief and something else - something feral and hungry.  
  
"Yes! Oh-oh.. fuck yes, Daryl...don't-don't stop please.." Rick's usually deep voice was little more than a desperate mewl, fisting his hands in Daryl's saturated locks.  
  
"Alright Rick. I'll give ya want y' want.." Daryl stood up and pulled Rick into a rough, needy kiss, "But not here. I wanna have you in a real bed for our first time."  
  
And he reached out to turn off the water which, Rick realized, was already cold from running so long. Daryl held open the shower curtain for Rick to step out and the pair took their time drying each other off before rushing to Daryl's bedroom.  
  
  
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Daryl closed the door behind him with a click and secured the lock - hopefully it wasn't necessary, but just in case - then turned his gaze back to Rick. His curls were glistening wetly, blacker than ever, streaked through with hints of grey which only made him look sexier in the hunter's eyes. Daryl's eyes traveled down his lean muscular torso, admiringly, pausing at the obvious bulge showing under the white towel then darting back up to those shockingly blue eyes. Rick smiled a little nervously, running a hand through his hair then reached out and pulled Daryl against him. Their skin was still flushed pink from the shower and slightly damp; their fingers skidded rather than slipped over each others' supple skin, and the pair shuffled blindly until they fell onto the bed. Their towels came loose in the scuffle and suddenly Daryl felt a flash of electric bliss as his quickly rehardening cock grazed against Rick's still rock-hard shaft. Daryl saw that Rick's cock was flushed deep pink and leaking precum. He felt slightly guilty for making his leader wait so long for release, but he wasn't ready for this night to be over just yet and he fully planned on giving Rick the most amazing experience of his life. He owed him that and so much more.  
  
"Um, hey-" he gasped, still knocked off balance by how much this man turned him on, "In that drawer behind you, there's a tub of vaseline.."  
  
Rick's eyes widened slightly, the blue nearly swallowed by his expanding pupils as he fumbled the drawer open and retrieved the blue-lidded container. The constable's finger's were trembling slightly as Daryl accepted the make-shift lube, so the hunter leaned in to kiss him as tenderly as he knew how. He needed Rick to be comfortable with this, he needed him to love every minute, otherwise he would never forgive himself for messing up the older man's first time. Granted, Daryl wasn't exactly a font of experience in this area but he'd had a couple of drunken encounters that had left him feeling empty and unfulfilled. He knew this would be different though. With Rick it couldn't be anything but incredible. Daryl crawled forward, pressing Rick back into the soft, clean bedding and leaned over him, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses over his chest and shoulders. Daryl's tongue teased the older man's nipples into stiff peaks, grazing his teeth over the pink nubs, eliciting a gasp from Rick. Then he was moving further down, still clutching the tub of vaseline like his life depended on it. Rick's legs fell open willingly at Daryl's touch, hips lifting instinctively, seeking warmth and friction. Setting the jar aside, but still within reach, Daryl licked a long, luxurious stripe along Rick's shaft, feeling it bobbing wildly under his tongue. The hunter ground his own hips down into the bed, his hard-on still very sensitive but ready to go again. Suddenly Daryl sat up, positioning himself between Rick's knees and reached for the abandoned lubricant. Rick's eyes followed his hand, suddenly looking wary again, prompting Daryl to catch his lips in a soothing kiss.  
  
"S'okay Rick, there's no rush." he whispered bracingly, "I'll take as long as y' need - and we can stop any time. We can stop right now if you want. I'll make ya cum with my mouth if you aren't ready yet..."  
  
Rick shook his head vigorously, "No Daryl, I don't want you to stop. I just- just never done this before."  
  
The hunter tried not to feel so pleased about that; but hearing Rick admit that Daryl would be his first was easily the best thing he'd heard all night. He felt a huge grin spread across his face. Rick shook his head and muttered _"Shut up, Dixon._ " but he was grinning too and looked far more at ease as Daryl popped the blue cap off and scooped up a liberal amount on his first two fingers. Daryl bent forward to press feather-light kisses along Rick's pale thighs before cautiously smoothing the thick emollient across Rick's still-tight entrance. His fingers were gentle but decisive as he coated Rick's sensitive rim thoroughly, even though Rick was keening softly into the pillow and shifting his hips urgently toward Daryl's fingers, desperate for more. Finally, with his own fingers slick and glistening he began working one digit into Rick's ass - it slid in easily and Rick cried out, his toes curling blissfully. Daryl set up a steady rhythm, thrusting smoothly into that slick heat, his own cock now fully hard and aching to feel Rick clenched around it. Daryl twisted his hand, his finger curving slightly within Rick's body; seeking, seeking...  
  
Rick arched up suddenly, his mouth open in a silent howl of surprise as Daryl's finger grazed pleasantly over his prostate. The officer collapsed back onto the bed, panting out shocked little whimpers, his hips raising to meet Daryl's rocking fingers. Now the hunter let his index finger rest alongside the other, slipping in a little ways then waiting for the other man's reaction. Rick's eyes were blazing as he caught the hunter's gaze and hissed " _Fuck me, Daryl!"_  
  
"Jesus, Rick..." Daryl breathed, fighting the urge to shove both fingers in roughly, to fuck him open with his fingers as quickly as possible so he could _finally_ slide his rigid cock into him. Instead, Daryl carefully worked in the second finger until they were both fully seated, trying to wait but he was soon pistoning in and out almost too quickly, based on Rick trembling knees and shivery breaths. But the constable didn't ask him to stop, he was moaning and gasping over and over, his hands clutching blindly at the covers, at Daryl, at anything he could reach. _Yes...more.. Ah fuck, Daryl! Please-please baby, please..._ The older man's voice sounded utterly wrecked, begging Daryl for more, his cock throbbing visibly on his stomach, leaving a shiny patch of wetness at the tip. Daryl leaned down, somewhat awkwardly, trying to maintain his rhythm as he licked away the tempting drop of precum before sliding his lips around the thick, round head. Rick whined loudly, thrusting up into Daryl's throat, nearly pulling off of the hunter's fingers completely. Daryl drove his fingers in deep, sucking harder as Rick continued to squirm, sobbing into the plush cushion he had grasped over his face. The hunter pulled his mouth off with an obscenely wet _pop_ , knowing that Rick would be finished any second if he didn't stop. Instead he began to scissor his fingers, subtly at first then spreading wider and wider as Rick's body became more pliant, opening easily to Daryl's skilled touch. The hunter kept his fingers wide and slid in a third finger - Rick's sharp gasp didn't sound pained but Daryl gave him time to adjust to the latest intrusion before turning his wrist in little quarter circles, screwing his fingers in and out until Rick was begging shamelessly, his eyes wild, his damp hair flattened on one side and adorably messy on the other.  
  
"Daryl, please." he pleaded frantically, "I need you to fuck me.. I want- I want to feel you cum inside me.."  
  
Daryl nearly came right then, the sound of Rick begging like that sending a powerful thrill humming straight to his cock. The hunter gave a shaky nod, not trusting his voice at that moment, and drew his fingers out, spreading them slightly as he did so. As Daryl shifted forward on his knees, lining up the head of his aching rod with Rick's well-stretched entrance, he caught a little more vaseline on his fingertip and smoothed it over every inch of his heated flesh. Then he looked up into ocean-blue eyes, which were sparkling with lust and fascination, and pushed in as slowly as possible...  
  
Rick yielded easily at the insistent pressure of the hunter's thick head. The older man arched sharply, hands digging painfully into Daryl's thighs, his gasping little cries of _"Yes-yes-Daryl-yes"_ were pure torture as the officer's body gripped his cock, impossibly tight and incredibly hot. Daryl heard himself groaning as he struggled to pace his initial thrust. He wanted to take his time but Rick's hips were making it a nearly futile goal, rocking and circling, teasing Daryl into a frenzy. As his shaft finally sank in, his full-length disappearing into Rick's tantalizing heat, Daryl felt himself yanked forwards and was falling into a tender, yet urgent, kiss. He was rocking forward gently, pressing in deeper and deeper, drawing more sighs and tiny moans from Rick's perfect lips. He could feel the tip of his cock sliding over that firm bundle of nerves that was causing Rick to arch and twist desperately. His hands tangled in the constable's nearly dry hair, their gazes locked as Daryl drew his hips back several inches then thrust in quickly. Rick's eyes dropped shut and his cry of pleasure lanced through Daryl like wildfire.  
  
The hunter sat back onto his knees, still rocking his hips rhythmically into Rick's slick heat as he drew the sheriff up to sit across his lap. The position caused Rick to feel even tighter around Daryl's cock and he was forced to stop a moment, panting heavily, to keep himself from coming instantly. Then Rick's hands were cupping his jaw and kissing him far too gently as the older man rolled his hips, grinding himself down on Daryl's thick shaft.  
  
"Oh- Rick! Fucking Christ -yes- you feel...so fucking good.." Daryl was surprised, and impressed, by his own ability to form entire words at a moment like this. The hunter was quickly spinning out of control and knew he didn't have long until he was coming deep inside Rick's gorgeously taut ass _-fuck-_ so the hunter wrapped his hand around Rick's cock, where it was trapped between their bodies and began to pump up and down with fierce determination. Rick collapsed forward against Daryl's shoulder, hoarse moans muffled into the hunter's neck but still circling his hips, now thrusting upwards into Daryl's fist as well. Daryl swiped his thumb over the head of Rick's cock and squeezed a little harder on the way down and suddenly Rick was coming undone in his arms and he felt a hot spurt of warmth across his fingers and between their bodies. Daryl continued stroking gently until the other man's ragged pants became a hiss. Then Daryl pushed Rick back onto the bed, kissed him deeply and began to thrust in earnest. In moments he finished too; spilling his cum deep inside that glorious warmth, feeling his cock throb and twitch faintly against the constricting heat of Rick's body.  
  
Everything went dim, the hunter's vision shimmered like heat waves in the Georgia sun. He fell sideways onto his pillow, drawing out carefully and cringing sympathetically at Rick's wince. The hunter could feel his body melting into the tempting softness that surrounded him but he forced himself to reach over, pulling a little package of baby wipes from his bedside drawer. He began cleaning the sticky smear of cum from Rick's stomach in languid strokes, working his way down as Rick murmured gratefully, his eyes already closed and his breathing slow and even. By the time Daryl tossed the scrap of material into the nearby bin, Rick was snoring gently. Daryl hesitated for a moment then pulled the spare blanket at the foot of the bed over himself and Rick then snuggled against the older man's broad shoulder with a contented sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, so this is my first time writing a 'home run' scene as it were - sorry if it dragged on a little long but I figured their first time deserved to be extra-special... please be gentle with me.


	3. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after - how awkward will it be when they wake up?

Rick woke up in a cocoon of comforting warmth, surrounded by softness and radiant heat. His eyes were still closed but he could tell from the red glow on his eyelids that it was a beautiful day. He heard a gruff little cough and that warmth shifted under his cheek. His eyes snapped open, taking in the expanse of hard, muscled chest complete with its light dusting of hair in the center then he relaxed again, as the previous night's activities came flooding back.  
  
Oh.  
  
Right.  
  
Rick tensed again as he heard a faint clinking noise from down the hall, followed by voices - several voices. His gaze shot up to Daryl, who was awake and looking faintly nervous. Rick wasn't sure if it was the prospect of seeing their friends or because of what they had done - until the hunter leaned in to kiss him quickly.  
  
"Mornin' Sunshine, have a good sleep?"  
  
Daryl's voice washed over Rick like warm honey and interest stirred in the officer's loins, curling lazily between his legs as he returned the kiss languidly. They were silent for several long moments, savoring the soft play of lips and tongue, neither of them noticing or caring about the morning breath. Finally they broke apart and exchanged shy smiles. Then Rick groaned and flopped back onto his pillow resignedly. Daryl watched with calm, faintly amused eyes while the older man came to the inevitable conclusion that they couldn't simply hide in the bedroom all day.  
  
"I'm starving." Rick announced finally, his decision made. "Shall we go out there and face the music?"  
  
Daryl nodded, with that sexy smirk on his lips "Guess we're gonna have to eventually."  
  
Rick sighed and swung his legs out of the addictive warmth that was Daryl Dixon's bed and offered the younger man a hand. They dressed quickly, Rick pulling on a pair of Daryl's jeans and a plain black t-shirt while Daryl donned a sleeveless plaid shirt and his signature winged vest. Rick couldn't resist reaching out to trace his fingertip over the arch of one of those wings. Daryl may have looked hot as hell last night, dressed to the nines, but _this_ is the Daryl that Rick had fallen for in the first place. Daryl placed his hand on the door knob then reached out boldly to take Rick's hand in his own and they exited hurriedly, before they lost their nerve.  
  
There was a storm of applause and catcalling as the pair entered the crowded kitchen. Any hope of privacy was completely shot - everyone was there. Their entire group -excluding Gabriel- were gathered around the table, as well as Aaron and Eric who looked absolutely thrilled (Rick thought he saw a tear in their eyes, but couldn't be sure). Rick felt his face glow like a Christmas bulb and ducked his head, grinning sheepishly yet feeling oddly proud of himself. He glanced over at Daryl who had shaken his long hair forward to conceal his own flushed cheeks and then impulsively leaned in to catch the shocked hunter in a joyful liplock. There was a second, even louder thunder of clapping around them and he was pretty sure he heard Maggie shriek _Finally!_ but he was too busy kissing Daryl's amazing lips to take much notice. When they drew apart, Daryl swayed a little drunkenly then turned to their audience with a cocky little smirk.  
  
"So who's cookin'? Me 'n Rick want pancakes for breakfast. Preferably in bed."  
  
There was a chorus of _awww's_ and hearty groans around the room as Carol brought forward a towering plate of fresh pancakes, dripping with syrup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all Folks! Thanks so much to everyone who took the time to read it, I hope it was worth your while. 
> 
> Please feel free to comment :)


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